The Legion of the Lost, стр. 25
‘How should I know the way on my first visit?’ demanded Palfrey. The bald-headed man apologised quickly, called: ‘Holler!’ and then, when a frail-looking man who looked nearer sixty than fifty came up: ‘Show the Herr Hauptmann to Room 104. Hurry!’
It was even more gloomy and sombre inside than it appeared from the street and it was alive with drab grey uniforms. Palfrey and the others were not questioned as they followed their guide. A few seconds later they stood in a group outside Room 104, while Holler knocked.
A stocky little Bavarian opened the door.
‘What do you want?’ he growled. When he saw Palfrey, he straightened up and saluted. ‘Good afternoon, Herr Hauptmann!’
‘I come to interrogate Erik Erikson,’ said Palfrey. ‘I am in a hurry.’
‘Yes, Herr Haptmann.’ The man stepped aside, Palfrey, Brian and Conroy followed, Holler was dismissed. ‘He is about to be exercised with Ohlson, but it can be delayed.’ He glanced away from Palfrey to a small, tidy desk in a small room; Palfrey knew that he was looking at the telephone, an old-fashioned candlestick type.
‘Here are my papers of authority,’ said Palfrey.
The man looked at them, and Palfrey snapped: ‘Take them, you cannot read them like that!’
The sergeant obeyed and opened the card; inside were two silver fifty-kroner pieces. There was no expression on the man’s face but he became suave and obliging.
‘Thank you, Herr Hauptmann, they are quite in order. You will please say if you wish to see them in their room or in the yard. Whichever you wish, Herr Hauptmann, although my instructions have been that they should be exercised at three-thirty.’ He talked as if the men were dogs. ‘But just as you desire.’
‘It is a fine day,’ said Palfrey. ‘The yard will suit me.’
‘Thank you, Herr Hauptmann.’ The sergeant turned and with remarkable dexterity slipped the two silver pieces into his pocket. Then he stepped to another door and opened it.
The room beyond was a large one.
There were two desks and a small laboratory bench fitted in it. On a table by the biggest window Palfrey had seen in Copenhagen, were dozens of small bottles and what looked like squares of butter or margarine and lard. Some of the bottles were filled with a bluish-white substance not unlike watered milk. By the further door, which was locked, stood a corporal, staring at the newcomers without expression. The door dwarfed him; it was a mammoth one, the ceiling of the room was lost in its own height. There were intricate carvings on the ceiling, the door and the window-frames and a faded tapestry hung on one wall.
Palfrey took it all in at a glance, then paid attention to the other two men.
He did not know which was Erikson and which Ohlson but guessed that the tall, gaunt one with a completely bald, egg-shaped head, was Erikson; he looked much more the professor type. He was standing by the bench, his hands empty, and looking at the visitors dully. By his side was a short, rotund man – yet despite the fact that in comparison with the taller one, he looked fat, actually his clothes sagged loosely about him and there were bags of skin under his chin. At one time, obviously, he had been very fat.
Neither of them spoke.
The shorter man’s eyes were a curious, lively blue, at variance with his set expression. The taller man looked at Palfrey from beneath narrowed lids. His face was so thin that the bones stuck out and the flesh of his cheeks fell in; he was like a living skeleton of a man.
‘You will now take your exercise!’ the sergeant said sharply. ‘The Herr Hauptmann will talk to you then.’ Palfrey was quite sure that he looked meaningly towards the corporal and that the latter’s suspicious expression relaxed; it was if a telepathic message concerning the fifty-kroner pieces had been flashed from one to the other.
The gaunt man put a hand to his eyes; his fingers were trembling. The lively, alert eyes of his companion turned towards him and the man said as sharply as the sergeant had spoken: ‘I protest! Herr Erikson is not well enough to be bothered with questions.’
‘I have my orders,’ said the sergeant stolidly. ‘Your protest will be reported.’ There was a sneer when he said ‘reported’ and Palfrey fancied that the man who had once been so fat licked his lips as if he knew exactly what it would mean; and that it would not be pleasant.
It was a walled-off section of the main grounds of the palace. The wall, six or seven feet high, was topped with barbed wire and steel spikes; there was no chance at all of scaling it in a hurry. There was one large door on the far side of the wall, arched and heavy; he could see the bolts from where he stood.
The tall man blinked in the strong light; Ohlson – Palfrey hardly noticed that his guess had been right – took a grip on his friend’s arm. The guards stayed by the door; the two prisoners began to walk. Brian and Conroy stood rigidly at attention by the sergeant and the corporal.
When they were out of earshot, Ohlson said: ‘Herr Hauptmann, I must apologise if I seemed offensive, but I am quite sure that Herr Erikson is not well enough to be questioned. He has been ill of late and I have applied unsuccessfully for treatment. It is a miracle that he is alive now. They give him’ – there was bitterness in his voice – ‘just enough to keep him alive and allow him to work part of the time. No more than that.’
Palfrey said in German, but without expression: ‘He is diabetic, isn’t he? I can help him. Please do not look up and do